True Witch

  My decision fell squarely upon the idea of introducing a metallic trash can to the Sheriff’s car. And so I did that instead, grabbing the first one I saw and hurling it at the car. The trash can fell short of the windshield and only dented the front bumper, but I’ll be damned if the act wasn’t going to get me thrown into jail for the night too.

  The Sheriff pursed his lips and shook his head from across the way, but I would have happily given up a night of freedom if it meant I would be safe.

  Ironic.

  I was probably safer behind bars than I was in my own house.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  I rode to the station in the back of the squad car with my arms around my stomach and my nerves shot to all hell. What the heck had just happened? I missed my cozy bed; laying on it with a good book or a good movie, snuggled up to my nose under the covers, listening to the rain falling outside. But instead I was sitting uncomfortably in a car on my way to a jail, and all because of Aaron and his damned temper.

  What was he thinking? Hell. What was I thinking?

  Safety. That’s what I was thinking. With Aaron and Damien both in jail for the night I was leaving myself exposed to a potential killer. And with my Magick not nearly as under control as I would have liked I was more likely to do damage to myself and to my surroundings if I was forced to rely on it for my defense. So I sat in silence and accepted my lot as we pulled up to the station.

  The station was a moderately sized building, brown on the outside and grey—bathed in fluorescent yellow—on the inside. The men were sent to a cell on one side of the building while the Sheriff escorted me to another cell on the other side of the building. Luckily I seemed to be the only guest tonight.

  I glanced tiredly at the Sheriff from within the little cell. He shook his head disapprovingly, locked me in, and walked out of sight.

  “You’ll get your phone call when you’re processed,” he said as he left, and that was that.

  At least the cell had a comfortable enough looking bed. So I sat on it, kicked my feet up, and lay my head down, exhaling loudly. Throwing the trash can into a cop car wasn’t the best idea I had ever had, but it wasn’t like I had a plan. Now, though, I had time to hatch one. What I did wouldn’t get me locked up. I would get a fine, at best.

  It was the after jail part I had to think about.

  From where I was laying I could see the outside sky, but the moon wasn’t in it. A blanket of clouds so dark no one would be able to tell the difference between night and day obscured the heavens and separated me from the Goddess’ strength when I needed her the most. The cell started to feel smaller than it was when I first came in, but I tried to block the claustrophobia out and rest.

  I think I dozed off, because the next thing I knew was footsteps… approaching. The young Deputy strolled down the hall, unlocked my cell, and asked me to follow him. He took me to a small room with a plain grey table, two worn chairs, and an ancient-looking computer; the kind with the fat screens. The room stank of bitter coffee, old paper, and wet dog—despite the lack of an actual dog.

  I sat down on the chair and it groaned beneath my weight. The Deputy produced a small, transparent bag with my personal effects; phone, wallet, keys. He then took my wallet out, checked out my ID card, and began tapping away at the keyboard in silence. But his eyes wandered to me, exploring, meandering. I folded my arms over my chest and crossed my legs, and the Deputy smirked.

  “First time, huh?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said, rubbing my arm.

  “Throwing a trash can at a cop car… was a pretty stupid thing to do, wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah, well.”

  He stopped typing. “You know, I once did something stupid for a girl too.”

  I kept my mouth shut.

  “Yeah, I punched a guy out once because I wanted to impress this girl I was after,” he continued. “One hit, too. I was real proud of that.”

  “I bet.”

  The Deputy paused. “Know what she did?”

  I met his stare. He wore the mask well; a charming smile, well ironed uniform, blonde hair nicely cut; but he had the hungry eyes of a man who lusted for flesh.

  I coughed to clear my dry throat. “What did she do?”

  “She ran, and then I did something really stupid.” The deputy thumbed the tip of his pen. “It’s a funny story when you think about it.”

  “What’s so funny about it?”

  The Deputy smiled. “You won’t get the punch line.”

  “Why’s that?”

  The smile transformed into a wicked grin. “Because you’re a girl.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  The light fixture above my head buzzed loudly and then popped, plunging the room into darkness. In the faint glow of the computer screen the Deputy’s face seemed to twist and contort, as if someone had superimposed the image of a snarling demon over his plastic smile.

  “God dammit,” he said, “That thing keeps shorting out.”

  Being alone in the dark with the Deputy made my skin crawl and sent my mind into overdrive. I could see him now, but if he moved slightly to the left or he stood up, I wouldn’t be able to see him at all. The darkness in the room was somehow total and hungry; swallowing what little glow was coming from the computer screen. It didn’t help that the computer was running an operating system from the Stone Age—you know, the ones with the black screen and the green writing.

  Black screens didn’t throw out much light.

  “Alright,” he said. He straightened his uniform and for a moment I thought he was going to stand up. I shuffled uncomfortably in my seat and eyed the line of light breaking from beneath the door to the hall. I know I could dash for it at a moment’s notice, but he would have caught me if I was too slow turning the knob. Luckily, he rested his hands on the keyboard again and said “Only one more thing left to do in here anyway. Have you got anyone you want to call? Friends or family?”

  I nodded.

  The Deputy grabbed a landline unit from the side of the desk and turned it my way, handing me the receiver. “Pretend I’m not here,” he said, “And take as long as you like.”

  I took the handset. The Deputy leaned back, hands clasped at his chest, watching me. Recalling Eliza’s number from memory, I felt my way around the keys until it started to ring but with every passing moment my stomach twisted and churned further until it was a complete knot. Pick up, pick up, I thought. But Eliza’s phone went straight to voicemail.

  “Hey, listen,” I said, “Don’t freak out but I’m in jail right now. I’m fine, everything’s fine, I just wanted you to know I’ll be out in the morning. I’m with Damien. I love you.”

  I hung up. The Deputy didn’t move.

  “Do you like the dark?” he asked.

  “I like it fine.”

  “I like it too. It’s calming, isn’t it?”

  Speak for yourself. “Can we go, now? Or are we waiting for something in here?”

  The Deputy smiled, all teeth in the glow of the screen. “C’mon, let’s get you back to your cell, lawbreaker.”

  He led me out of the tiny room and soon enough I was once more bathed in fluorescent yellow light. Never in the history of humankind had someone been so happy beneath such harsh, sterile lighting. But there I was, praising the Goddess of the Moon and the God of the Sun for getting me out of that awkward, nerve-wrecking room.

  Putting a jail door between myself and the Deputy allowed me to breathe more easily. I sat down on the bed, ran my hands through my hair, and sighed.

  “Alright,” he said, “You stay put now. Don’t make me come in there.”

  You come in here and I’ll zap you, consequences be damned. “Deputy Clinton,” I said as he left.

  He turned to look at me, smiling. “Yes?”

  “Do you like creeping people out in general or is it just girls?”

  His smile morphed into a scowl. “You watch it,” he said. The intensity of his words sent me reeling. “You
can’t talk to me like that, you understand?”

  “And you can’t talk to me like that either,” I said, clearly overstepping my boundaries.

  “As long as you’re the one behind bars, I can say what I want.”

  The Deputy turned around and left, but as he disappeared down the hall I sensed something strange coming from him. It was as if emotions echoed down the hall with the sounds of his boots, bouncing off the walls and making their way back to me so that I could feel them for myself.

  Anger. Embarrassment. And… guilt?

  Guilt.

  Why guilt? I rested my head against the wall and closed my eyes to try and process what I had just experienced, but I was starting to get tired now. It wasn’t long before Damien’s face came into view in the black space in front of my eyes. He was also sitting on his bed with his eyes closed. A strange kind of vibration, almost like a hum, started in my chest and then trailed into my stomach. I smiled to myself and could swear I saw Damien smiling back, even though I was only seeing his likeness in my mind.

  Or maybe I really was seeing him; maybe I was using a little Clairvoyance again.

  Whatever it was, I knew, I missed him.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  “Amber.”

  The Sherrif’s voice snapped me back into consciousness like an elastic band. I hadn’t even heard him walk down the corridor.

  “Yes. Sheriff Kirkman. I’m up. What is it?” I asked, clearing my throat and rubbing my eyes.

  The Sheriff sighed. From my vantage on the other side of the metal bars, he seemed taller now than he had ever been. Or maybe that was because I had been lying down. I sat up straight.

  “Why’d you throw a trash can at the car?” he asked. He may have found the comedy in the situation and even laughed if he didn’t look so damned serious. A skinny little ginger girl throwing a trash-can at a cop car; I was sure that was a first for him.

  “I was angry and confused,” I said.

  The Sheriff arched an eyebrow. “I’ve seen you around plenty. You look like the kind of girl who has her head screwed on her shoulders, so why this? Why now?”

  “I told you. I was angry.”

  “Don’t lie to me, there has to be a reason why you’re here right now instead of comfortably at home.” The Sheriff’s perceptive powers went far beyond even my abilities as a liar.

  My voice started to quake. “Do you really want me to tell you?” I asked.

  “If you can’t tell me, who can you tell?”

  I paused, breathed deep, and exhaled. “I think someone’s trying to kill me,” I said.

  “Who’s trying to kill you?”

  “I don’t know, but the guy who’s been attacking people in my neighborhood, the one who attacked me last week, left a note for me on my door today telling me I was next.”

  “You? Why you?”

  “I… I don’t know. But it’s worse than that. That girl who died in her pool? I don’t think it was an accident. I think this same guy killed her and made it look like an accident.”

  “Amber—”

  “I’m not making this up! I also know she didn’t die in her pool, either. She died in the river. He killed her.”

  The Sheriff sighed. “And why haven’t you said any of this before?”

  “Because,” I said, “I wanted to figure it out on my own.”

  “You’re not a Sheriff or a Deputy,” he said. “You have to leave the policing to the police.”

  “I understand that, I just—”

  “If you think you’re in danger, you need to come to the authorities. We can keep you safe and figure out what’s going on.”

  I nodded and stared into the ground. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know what I was doing.”

  I didn’t tell him why I couldn’t tell the cops. How could I? Telling him the full story would implicate Aaron, and reveal way more about myself—and my world—than I wanted to. I didn’t need to be told to keep quiet about being a Witch. Besides, if I had told him the truth he would have just locked me up in a different kind of cell; the kind with padded walls.

  “Did you get your phone call?” the Sheriff asked.

  “I did. I called my friend Eliza but she wasn’t home.”

  The Sheriff paused, pensive. “Look, I’m not going to press charges. You didn’t break anything, and this is your first offence.”

  “So, you’re letting me go?”

  “You don’t need to be here tonight. You should be in your bed, resting.”

  “I do need to be here. Haven’t you been listening to me?” Angry heat rose through my chest and into my cheeks. “My house isn’t safe. I found a note on my door today telling me I was next. How am I supposed to go home when someone who wants to hurt me knows where I live?”

  “I can send you home with an escort. Keep an officer posted outside your door all day and all night to keep an eye out for this weirdo, catch him in the act.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t want that.” I was worried the Sheriff wouldn’t accept my request, so I went for his pride. “I threw a trash can at your squad car; if you let me go now everyone will think you’re soft. It’ll tarnish your reputation.”

  “The longest I can keep you here without a charge is twenty four hours, Amber.”

  “Fine, then keep me here ‘till you let Aaron and Damien go,” I said, “I’ll leave with them.”

  Sheriff Kirkman held on to his belt and nodded. “Could I get you something? Water, maybe?”

  “Please, yes.”

  The Sheriff walked away from my cell and disappeared down the corridor. A light cawing floated into my room on the back of the breeze glancing off the window to the outside. I approached the tiny opening but could only narrowly identify the tips of the trees nearby. I couldn’t see the bird, but then the night sky was black as pitch—the thickness of the clouds consuming the ambient light coming up from the town. But the bird was there.

  “Raven?” I said into the night air, knowing how stupid I must have sounded, “Are you there?”

  The Raven came barreling at the window, flapping and screeching. I staggered back to the center of my cell and watched the winged animal frenzy against the window, ranting and raving.

  Run, it said, run! Run! Run!

  “Changed your mind about getting out?” the Sheriff asked, startling me.

  I turned to him and then turned to the window, but the Raven was gone. It had told me to run. Run. Run. Run. My heart was starting to race, my mouth was dry, and I could feel my stomach sinking.

  “Uh, about what?” I asked.

  “About leaving,” he said, extending a plastic through the bars and into the cell.

  Run. Run. Run.

  Was the Raven telling me to run from the Sheriff? From the Deputy? Did it want me to somehow squeeze through the window and escape the Station? For all I knew the Deputy was the killer, or for all I knew it was the Sheriff. But he was waiting for me to take the drink he had offered and I had little time to think. So I took the cup, drank the water, and handed it back.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Try and get some rest,” he said, “You’ve had a rough day.”

  The Sheriff headed down the hall and I sat down on the edge of the bed. My heart started to relax and the world was suddenly enveloped in a calming quiet, even the trees outside seemed to stop swaying.

  In the quiet I thought about Lilith, Damien and Aaron. This entire messy situation was surreal, like something out of a novel. I was sure stuff like this didn’t happen to regular people. It just didn’t. And yet somehow I was enduring it like a tough little soldier, rolling with the punches and dealing with it without breaking. I wondered if Damien had anything to do with that, or if maybe I had taken some of Aaron’s fire and made it my own.

  Then the room started to spin. My head started to droop, my arms fell limp at my side, and I found it hard to catch a breath. Blinking, I whirled my head around to try and snap out of it, but the spinning was getting faster, faste
r, faster.

  I put my hands on the bed, planted my feet on the ground, and stood up. But I only made it one pace toward the cell door before I collapsed and hit the ground hard.

  As the world receded, the bird’s voice came whirling back to me.

  Run.

  Run.

  Run.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  I awoke to a blurred, muted mess of a world. My head was still spinning and felt too light on my shoulders, but I was starting to regain sensation in my arms and feet; enough to know that my hands were bound together and that there was something gross in my mouth—duct tape, maybe. I soon learned that the more I wriggled the more the binds dug into my skin, but the pain was helping to wake me up so I wriggled anyway.

  I was in the back seat of a car, far as I could tell, and in the front seat someone was holding a one sided conversation on a cellphone. I couldn’t pick out specifics, but the voice was male and he was talking about me and Lily’s bracelet. From the tone of his voice and the general gestures, I could tell he was annoyed about something.

  Careful not to alert the driver to the fact that I was awake, I turned on my back to get a view of my surroundings. I still couldn’t see very well, but I could tell we were on a winding road by the swaying of the car. So I tried keeping track of the number of twists and turns as we made them only to quickly discover that it was way harder than fiction had led me to believe. Luckily, the tree line seemed familiar, and our gradient told me we were travelling uphill, so that was something.

  Calm down, I thought, and focus. Breathe slowly. Don’t let him know you’re awake. I closed my eyes and concentrated, and my breathing to allowing my rapid pulse to slow. I had to stop the car, get out, and do as the bird had told me. I had to run. So when I attained full concentration, I visualized myself floating out of the car, travelling in a phantom body toward the engine, and throwing all of my anger into it.